Tabula Rasa
by Perosha
Summary: Saïx takes a look at the nearly-finished Replicas.


"And you're certain that they will be ready on time?"

The greenish light from the large glass vats cast rippling splotches across the otherwise dark laboratory, tinging both observers' skin a sickly hue. Saïx, younger and fuller-faced, looked merely off-color from the effect; Vexen's sharp and sunken features made him resemble a reanimated cadaver. His grin only added to the impression.

"Quite certain, yes. I have the final set of calculations well in hand. At this point I see no obstacle to both units being fit for testing on schedule."

"We only need to test one." Saïx glanced down at his clipboard, frowned, looked back up at the vats and their contents. "Lord Xemnas wants to be certain of the soundness of the method. We'll only increase production as the need arises…and if the concept proves itself." His golden eyes passed between the two vats, and the dark shape floating silently in each, like curiosities pickled and preserved for display.

"There should be no difficulty on that account," Vexen said at once, smugly. "The theory is flawless in all particulars, as I've demonstrated. We need only let them mature a little further and then add the necessary data."

"You seem confident that these contraptions will function."

"Naturally." He made a dismissive gesture. "I've spent the better part of a year on them. Getting two units to survive even to this stage has been an exceptional challenge."

"As the Superior is well aware."

Though flatly delivered, the comment made a reaction flash across Vexen's long features and then fade. If it was resentment, it was resentment tinged with fear.

"I have made _very_ clear the reasons for the Program's delay. I have had nothing in the way of assistance, and furthermore the nature of the complications that arose during the first phase—"

"Spare me your grousing."

Vexen muttered something that might have included the word ' _philistine_.' Saïx flipped through the charts on his clipboard, glancing up at the specimens two or three times before making margin notes in a tight, clear hand.

"Dare I ask whom the Superior intends to replicate?" Vexen asked peevishly. "Or is that still an undecided proposition?"

"I am not at liberty to discuss Lord Xemnas's intentions for the Program as of yet."

"The boy, then. The hero of the Keyblade."

He smirked in reply to Saïx's swift, piercing look.

"An obvious choice." Vexen reached out with one gloved hand to tap at the keyboard in front of the tanks, making the light inside them brighten, their contents glistening wetly. "But rather passé. I had hoped for a more interesting test subject."

"Sora interests Lord Xemnas." Saïx flipped back to the first page on his clipboard, making another note now that he could better see both objects. "That alone is sufficient. Surely I don't need to explain to you what value a Keyblade wielder would have to the Organization."

"Of course not." Vexen huffed. "Still…The boy himself is unremarkable, from all observation thus far. Strong-hearted, but otherwise ordinary."

"If you believe the Superior has erred in his decision, you are welcome to tell him so yourself."

Vexen scowled so hard that it cut deep lines along the sides of his already drawn face. The light from the tanks rippled unsteadily in shades of green and yellow, making him appear by turns nauseated and then jaundiced.

"That…won't be necessary," he grumbled. "The Program is Lord Xemnas's directive."

"How good of you to remember."

Vexen sneered at Saïx's back as Saïx took several steps to the side, giving him a better view of the nearer of the two vats. The sight within did not seem to please him.

The things floating in the tanks were small, like children. Hairless, sexless, with skin smooth and shiny as hard plastic, they drifted inertly in viscous fluid the color of scummy pond water, tethered by tubes running through their throats and abdomens. The one on the left had its eyes closed. The one on the right did not, and its oversized eyes were balls of inky black, frightening in their size and emptiness, like the eyes of a shark. Only the suggestion of a nose had been cut beneath the eyes, nor was there yet a mouth on either of them. Both looked less like any prototype of humanity and more like half-finished dolls.

The thing in the second vat, the one with open eyes, tilted its head all the way to the right, as if its neck had broken suddenly. Its head rested on its shoulder, then straightened again, and one of its bent legs gave a jerk like a muscle spasm that nearly loosed several of the cords plugged into its belly. Saïx's lip curled, as if expressing revulsion. In the next moment, however, his features had smoothed to composure again.

"What's wrong with this one? It keeps moving."

Vexen's acid-bright eyes reflected the shuddering light from the tank. He smiled indulgently at the thing inside.

"There's nothing wrong with it, mechanically. It's simply a little fussy. The other model less so."

"Fussy." Saïx rolled the word around his mouth. "It has no data inputted, correct?"

"As you can see."

"Then surely it cannot be _fussy._ It has no personality. It isn't alive."

Saïx turned to a fresh page on his clipboard, adding the scratch of pen on paper to the other sounds of the dimly-lit room: bubbling from the vats, the hiss of air filtering through vents that cooled the machines. Vexen watched him only briefly, and with disinterest. The things in the tanks drew his attention much more strongly, and soon he was fiddling with knobs and dials, thin lips pressing into a grimace until the numbers on the display satisfied him. When he returned his attention to Saïx, he found him in motion, tracing a slow crescent on the floor as he took in the prototypes from every angle, as if inspecting for obvious mistakes. Vexen flipped a switch on the keyboard, and the noise made Saïx look over his shoulder.

"Both units are constructed identically?"

"That is correct. Though…This one," Vexen indicated the one on the left with a wave of his long sleeve, "I completed second, and thus with the benefit of experience. So in some aspects I would deem it a finer piece of work. But both should replicate whatever data they're given with equal exactness."

Saïx's eyes flickered back to the tank on the right, lingering on the shape within. "Lord Xemnas will be the judge," he said, his gaze boring into it, "of which of the two prototypes is fit for number status. And if the unit chosen doesn't accurately replicate the data it's fed, we'll use the other one as a backup."

The thing in the right vat twitched and squirmed, but gently this time, like a dog chasing a rabbit in its sleep. Vexen crossed his arms.

"And if—as I am utterly confident in assuming—it copies the data successfully? What's to be done with the remaining one in that case?"

"We'll have no need of it if the first one is fully functional." Saïx frowned as the second prototype bent and unbent an elbow for no discernable reason. "What is it doing now?"

"Pay it no mind." Vexen gave the display in front of the second vat a cursory glance, then pushed another button. A temperature display flashed, going up by two degrees. "The first one's fussy, as I've said. Sometimes it becomes restless."

Saïx nearly bared his teeth when the prototype's head jerked from one shoulder to the other. "'Restless.' I would sooner call it defective."

Vexen straightened and squared his shoulders, as if stung.

"Neither of these is _defective._ As I've said, the first one simply demonstrates several…obvious quirks. Including, as you can see, increased physical activity during—"

"This is the newer one," Saïx interrupted, turning his attention to the thing in the left tank with its eyes closed, floating, motionless and serene. "Am I correct?"

"Yes, but bear in mind—"

"The final decision rests with the Superior," Saïx continued, "but I will suggest this one for the numerical designation. Unless you can somehow manage to prove it has more defects than the original model."

As if to validate his decision, the restless prototype squirmed suddenly, its huge black eyes rolling in their sockets. The side of its smooth bald head hit the glass with an unpleasantly hard, hollow sound, and Saïx allowed himself another expression of disgust before shuffling through all of his papers a final time, smoothing them down and then reattaching his pen to the side of the clipboard. Vexen folded his arms, but only momentarily, unfolding them again at once to punctuate his next question with a gesture.

"You are satisfied with your inspection, I take it?"

"My opinion is not especially relevant. The matter rests with the Superior."

"Hmph. Well, you can at least tell me whether I'll have free reign once his objective is completed."

"Meaning?"

"Should the No. _i_ unit be wholly successful—and I have every reason to think it will be—then the Program will have no immediate need of the backup. Correct?"

"As I said."

"Then what will be done with it?"

"Its fate is irrelevant. It can simply be discarded if No. _i_ functions smoothly. Unless you have a better suggestion?"

"I do. I'd like to keep it for myself." Vexen spared the unit in question an unsettling smile. "It presents an entirely unique opportunity. I already have in mind several potentially illuminating experiments…"

Saïx snorted.

"As you like. Play with your toy, if it pleases you." He tucked his clipboard under his arm. "Though it would be inadvisable to break it. If No. _i_ becomes damaged, we may need to harvest the other one for parts."

"Duly noted."

"And of course, you cannot reveal its origins to the others. Claim it as a personal project, if you want, but leave the details of the Program out of it."

"Why?" Vexen asked at once, his voice rising a notch for the first time. "I've spent the better part of two years on this—unaided, may I remind you. You can hardly expect me not to finally discuss—"

"The Program is still classified." Saïx's coolness sliced right through Vexen's ire. "Unless and until the Superior allows it, you are not to divulge the particulars to anyone. Not before No. _i_ is tested and proven successful. After that you may parade the other one around all you like, so long as you don't disclose No. _i's_ true nature. That will happen only at the Superior's discretion."

"And that is because he is of the opinion—"

"—that No. _i_ should be tested under neutral conditions, yes. He hasn't wavered on that point. The others may handle the unit carelessly if they know it's only a puppet. Lord Xemnas will make the details of the Program known in due time."

Vexen made a displeased noise, which Saïx ignored. One of the cooling vents above began to hiss softly, punctuating the rest of Saïx's speech.

"I expect that he will pay another visit soon. He has been busy lately, but he desires No. _i_ to be activated as soon as possible. When it is ready for testing he will go collect the data from Sora personally."

This revelation made Vexen's thin eyebrows raise, the action pulling his wide eyes wider. His eerie smile reappeared.

"Oh ho! Really now? How very intriguing. I wonder if the boy will appreciate the honor."

Saïx's reply was lost when the hissing vent above them grew louder. He scowled up at it, and Vexen busied himself at the control panel again. By the time he tamed the vent's outburst, Saïx had already made for the door, and the silhouette of his black coat against the closed door was a shadow within a shadow, the quivering green light blurring his edges.

"I will deliver my report to the Superior this evening. Be prepared for additional questioning afterwards, if needed." A pause. "At this stage, I cannot say I'm impressed."

Vexen bristled, but Saïx left without allowing for a reply, the sudden flash of white hallway briefly blinding before the hermetically sealed doorway shut and locked itself behind him. Vexen blinked away the impression left on the back of his eyelids and turned away, muttering and scowling.

He continued to mutter as he busied himself at the desk, copying printouts into a research log, but eventually he began to grow more composed, like a ruffled bird settling down and preening its feathers after being disturbed from sleep. He let the vent run uninterrupted for a while, calibrating the pressure in the tanks, and when he shut it off again the sudden silence seemed loud and distorted, a vacuum not satisfactorily filled by the bubbling of the suspension medium. He then busied himself with rearranging piles of notes and bound research logs, reshuffling the chaos splayed across the tabletop into another form that looked equally chaotic, but evidently had some method of organization comprehensible only to himself. He had never been especially tidy, and nothing in his existence as a Nobody had forced him to develop the habit. Ever since the Replica Program had been delegated to him, he had worked on it entirely alone, and so had no need for someone else to understand his filing system.

The desk reordered to his satisfaction, he crossed the lab in several long strides, returning to the tanks that glowed like a massive shrine against the wall. The two objects within did nothing as he watched, but he slowly smiled nonetheless, not his usual frightening grin but a more subdued expression of satisfaction.

"Number _i,"_ he said aloud, admiring his handiwork drifting in a cocoon of chemicals. "So, you're to wield a Keyblade."

He talked to them often. Or rather, he talked to himself, out of long habit, and as they'd come to have humanoid shapes, his muttering and monologuing had more and more often been directed at them. By now he thought nothing of speaking at them familiarly, even while they lay open on a table with his hands inside them, rearranging pieces while their vacant eyes stayed aimed at the ceiling.

"I suspected as much," he continued, idly passing his fingers over the keyboard. "With how closely we've been observing that boy ever since he started chasing the Heartless. Predictable as it is, Sora is an obvious choice to replicate." He looked up, smugly watching the chosen prototype floating in its vat, eyes still closed. "A Keyblade is no common thing, you know. A weapon of great power…Yes." His smirk widened. "I look forward to monitoring your progress."

 _Thunk._

"Oh?"

The prototype in the second vat had knocked its head against the side of the tank as it drifted up and down in its fluid. It had not been a deliberate action—rather, the motion of the liquid had bumped it against the glass, and as its head was still lolling on its shoulder, its smooth, hard temple had hit the glass with a sudden sound.

"Disappointed, are you?" Vexen chuckled at his own joke. "Well, it's entirely your own fault. You might have behaved better in front of a guest, but of course you had to treat us to the usual display." He reached out and rapped a knuckle lightly against the glass. "If you repeat that performance the next time the Superior visits, he may want me to dismantle you."

 _Thunk._

"Naturally, I'll object on principle. But if you persist in being stubborn, you'll leave me no choice in the matter. As it is I intend to find some use for you…perhaps one more interesting even than the Program's. I confess that the Keyblade master has so far failed to capture my attention." To the other prototype, he added, "Not that you're of no consequence, of course. Sora's simply isn't the data I would have chosen to give you, myself."

The 'well-behaved' prototype finally opened its eyes. Vexen chuckled again, looking between the two faces that were blank in every sense of the word—if 'face' could describe their features at all. Though they could not see, their dead eyes seemed aimed at him nonetheless.

"Go back to sleep," he said. "The both of you. You may be close to completion, but 'close' is hardly satisfactory. Neither of you is at all ready to be alive."

Another spasm made the belligerent unit shudder. It twisted its torso once, twice, went limp. Then a hand raised, and with a surprisingly smooth motion, it raised one arm and pressed its small, pale hand to the glass, a white starfish clinging to the side of a filthy aquarium.

"Feisty, aren't you? You always have been." Vexen tapped out another sequence on the keyboard. "Be patient. You'll exist soon. And when you do…"

One gloved hand withdrew from the keyboard, coming up to touch the glass in the same place, palm to palm. The black glove, much larger, completely covered the prototype's childlike hand.

"…I'll make good use of you." His sharp grin widened. "Very good use indeed."

It took him a few moments to notice the other unit. It hadn't made any sound, but something changed briefly in the way the light shimmered at him from the tank on the left, and when he glanced over it was to see the future No. _i_ in the same pose, eyes still open, one small crude hand trying to touch him through the glass.

Vexen laughed. It was not a pleasant sound, high and strange, but neither was it especially cold. If anything, he sounded pleased—with himself, and with the pair of them too, the fruits of his labor that had come to life at last, after months of work and years of theory and enough setbacks that his research logs filled an entire bookshelf. Wordlessly he put his other hand up to the second tank too, an inch of glass the only thing keeping the prototypes' frail fingers from entwining with his own.

For a long time he stood like that, watching them both, one hand over each of theirs. Even when they drifted away again, limp and lifeless, he stood there still, his grin wide with triumph, the green light from the tanks reflecting brilliantly in his even greener eyes.


End file.
